The Last Fight
by Casey Hale
Summary: While Dean is in Hell. Sam remembers his final fight with his father before going to University. I do not own any characters. Anything you recognize is not mine. Anything you don't is.


"Boys! It's time to go!" John Winchester yelled from the foot of the stairs. "The sun's gone down, we're all set!"

"Let's go gank this mother! Sammy, get your ass down here!" John's oldest son Dean called to his brother.

"It's Sam, Dean! For the last time, SAM!" the youngest Winchester barked from upstairs. And go ahead; I'm going to sit this one out.

"Dude! We've spent the last three weeks hunting this thing, and we've finally got him. You're bailing on us? Whatcha got up there Sammy-boy? Got caught up in a good Harlequin again?" Dean taunted his brother, knowing that he would eventually give up and come with them.

"Let's go Sam! We've only got 'til dawn! You're wasting moonlight!" Their father was often frustrated by Sam's lack of interest in the "Family Business". Ever since his first hunting trip, he'd been trying different excuses not to go.

"Go ahead guys, you got this one covered! It only takes two of you, you won't even need me!" Sam shouted back, his voice cracking in frustration. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Didn't they realize that this had just become the best day of his life? He looked down at the thick white envelope in his lap. His acceptance to Harvard. Finally, his way out of this crazy supernatural life. Who actually _hunts_ the supposedly unreal? The things of nightmares? He knew that this life, his father and Dean's life, was not meant for him. He was going to be normal. Meet a great girl, get a successful job, and settle down. Start a normal family. He ran his hands through his thick chocolate curls.

"Go ahead!" he yelled for the second time. He heard a loud sigh from downstairs- probably Dean, impatient as always- and then the sound of his father's boots slowly climbing the creaking stairs of their old house.

"What could you possibly have up there that is so important that you're going to bail on us for?" Sam could hear the strain in his father's voice as he tried to keep his cool.

"I...I" Sam knew that a confrontation was inevitable. He might as well get it over with now. Over his father's shoulder he could see Dean peeking in, curious- Dean, always does what Dad wants perfect Dean. How many times had he been told that he should be more like his brother? Sam took a deep breath and continued.

"I need you to get used to hunting without me. I am going to be…leaving." It all came out in a rush.

"What!?" John was furious. How could his son want to STOP killing evil, STOP saving lives?

Dean snorted behind them. "You're in for it now, little bro."

Both men turned to glare at him.

"Shut up Dean!" John snapped. Dean took a step back. "What do you mean Sam?" His voice was cold.

"I was never into this, Dad. I want to help people, I really do, just not by killing." His voice softened as he tried to calm his father down.

"KILLING EVIL! Sam, we save people! What could possibly help more?"

"I know you're upset Dad, but I am still going." He handed his father the envelope.

"Harvard?" his voice dripped with accusation. "Even if I wanted you to go, you know we can't afford anything like that. God Sam, how could you even think to be so selfish!?"

"SELFISH Dad?! Selfish is dragging your sons, barley teens, out on a hunt, where we could have been killed! Yanking us away from a normal life, for what? So you could get revenge? And have you yet Dad? NO! Twenty years! Get over it. She's dead. Yellow eyes is gone! You. Can't. Stop. Him." He could feel the heat rising more and more in his face with each word, as he tried to slow his breathing. The blank expression on his father's face pulled him back to reality. He realized that he had gone too far. Pain filled John's eyes and he looked down to his feet. When his eyes finally met Sam's again, they were filled with hate.

"Don't you dare ever speak of your mother that way!" he spat at Sam. "It's not over. It will not be over until I kill that son of a bitch myself.

"I'm sorry." Sam turned away. "That was too far. But I still can't change how I feel about this life, Dad. I am done here. I am walking away."

"From your family? Fine. GO! We don't need you. But think about this Sam. You take one step out this door- away from us – toward whatever the hell you hope is out there, don't even bother coming back. Have a great rest of your life Sam." John stepped away from the door, dismissing Sam, and revealing Dean, hurt and confused.

"Sam took a few steps toward the door. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. Go. Now!" John slammed the envelope into Sam's hands.

"Dean stepped out of the way as Sam, shaking, towered over him. "Bye Sammy." He whispered, averting his eyes.

Sam looked at his brother, wondering if he was doing the right thing, before turning and starting down the stairs. By the time he reached the door, he was flat out running. But he still wasn't sure if he was running towards, or from, his future.

Sam jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. He groped for the light on the bedside table, and flicked it on. His eyes wandered around the strange room searching for something- anything –familiar, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. A different city, a different room, again. He looked over to the empty bed beside him. How many times had he done this? Wishing that it was all a dream. That somehow Dean was still here, snoring loudly in the bed beside his, ACDC pouring from his headphones. Still living. Still with him. And he knew that he had to do everything Sam could to get him back. From Hell. From Lilith.

A war was coming, and he needed his brother by his side to fight. He needed Dean.


End file.
